Page 27 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

"Mmm," he confirms. "For instance, right now, you've taken your punishment beautifully, admitted your mistake, and been completely honest about your feelings. That deserves a reward, don't you think?"

I nod eagerly, then quickly correct myself. "Yes, please."

"Please what?" he prompts, his eyes darkening.

The word rises to my lips naturally, feeling right in a way I never expected. "Yes, please, Daddy."

That’s all he needed. He grabbed the back of my neck and brought his lips firmly to mine. When he finally breaks the kiss, I’m breathless, dizzy, my body humming with need. His pupils are blown wide, his cheekbones flushed, and the way he looks at me, like he wants to devour me whole, leaves me trembling.

"Stay tonight," he says, his voice rough with desire.

It isn’t a question. But I know, down to my bones, that if I said no, he would accept it without hesitation. That’s the foundation we’re building; his dominance, my consent. His rules, my choice to follow them.

"Yes," I whisper, pressing my forehead to his. "Yes, Daddy. I'll stay."

The growl of approval he gives me vibrates through my skin, through my bones, and the kiss he claims next is even deeper, more demanding. His hands grip my thighs, and in one smooth motion, he lifts me, carrying me effortlessly toward his bedroom. My legs wrap around his waist on instinct, the friction of my body against his pulling another moan from my lips.

He kicks the door shut behind us, pressing me against the wall before we even reach the bed. His hands roam, possessive, greedy, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch me first. I arch into him, my body already burning, aching, needing.

"Tell me," he murmurs, his lips tracing a slow, teasing path down my throat. "Tell me what you need."

"You," I breathe. "I need you."

His chuckle is low, sinful. "Then I’m going to take what’s mine, princess. All of it."

The cool sheets contrast against the heat of my skin as he lowers me onto the bed, his body following, pressing me down, trapping me beneath his weight in the best way. His mouth finds mine again, slower this time, but no less demanding. He kisses me, tasting, teasing, his hands roaming my body with deliberate intent as his mouth presses firmly against mine.

His fingers slide beneath the hem of my leggings, pushing them down, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. When he reaches my thighs, he pauses, his breath warm against my cheek.

"You're shaking," he murmurs, his voice rough, teasing.

I am.

Trembling beneath him, every nerve ending sparking with anticipation, with need. I can barely think, barely breathe.

"Because I want you," I admit, my voice barely more than a whisper.

His groan is pure satisfaction. "Good."

In one slow, controlled motion, he pulls my leggings the rest of the way down, my wet underwear with them, baring me to his gaze. The hunger in his expression makes my stomach clench, my core tighten.

“Arms up,” he orders. I obey gladly and he removes my shirt, tossing it to the side. His fingers trace the lace of my bra before he cups me fully, squeezing just enough to make me arch into his touch. He pinches my nipples through the material until I squeal, and releases them.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his lips trailing down my throat, over my collarbone. He takes his time, tasting, savoring, his teeth grazing sensitive skin before his tongue soothes the sting. When his mouth finally closes over the peak of my breast through the lace, a broken moan spills from my lips.

"Please," I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it.

His answering chuckle is dark, knowing. "Patience, princess."

But I have none left.

I shift beneath him, pressing my hips up, seeking friction, seeking more. He rewards me with a slow grind of his hips, the hard length of him pressing against my aching core, even through the barrier of his clothes. The contact makes mewhimper, my fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"Fuck," he groans, his control visibly fraying.

And then his hands are everywhere at once, undoing clasps, peeling away lace, baring every inch of me to his touch, his gaze. His mouth follows, worshipping, exploring, tasting, until I’m writhing beneath him, every nerve ending on fire.

He pauses, his dark eyes meeting mine, silently asking. Once again, making sure I consent.

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